Losing...it's a part of the process

(Side Note: success isn't always glam)

Everyone on the path to success has failed at some point.. and I mean epically.

At least, that’s what “the guru’s” say.

But it feels different when it’s actually happening for you in the moment.

So, anyhow, in 2024 I went from being Rep of the Year and earning President’s Club
to having one of the worst years of my professional career in 2025.

So what happened?

On paper, it made sense.

I had done everything I set out to do in that previous role.
I hit the numbers. I built the relationships. I proved to myself I could perform at a high level.

So I made a move.

Not a step back. Not a step up.
A strategic lateral move.

I told myself it was for growth.
A new environment. A new challenge. A new ceiling.

It felt like the right kind of risk I was willing to take.

Turns out— it actually wasn’t.

And I’ve sat with that long enough now to say it clean:

Sometimes the move you think is expansion…
is actually misalignment.

Not because you’re incapable.
Not because you suddenly lost your edge.

But because you moved without fully understanding why you were moving.

That part matters more than we like to admit.

It reminds me of my time dancing for the Sacramento Kings.

Four years on that court.
High energy. High visibility. A rhythm you get used to.

And then in 2002.

Game 7 against the Lakers. Yes, I’m dating myself now, but hey, those who remember - you know what I’m actually talking about.

That loss that didn’t just hit the team—
it hit the entire city.

Sacramento felt it.

And I remember what came after.

That quiet question:

Do I stay… or do I go?

I loved my City. I loved my team. I loved my family. Yet, I chose to go.

I thought the next opportunity would be bigger. Better. Brighter.
That leaving meant elevation.

But sometimes—

the grass isn’t greener.

It’s just different.

And different doesn’t always mean aligned.

2025 didn’t just challenge me professionally.

It stripped a few things down at the same time.

People I thought would be in my life long-term—gone.
Friendships that spanned over a decade—shifted or ended.
Colleagues that felt like family—no longer in the picture.

And maybe the most unexpected loss — an older version of me.

The one who knew how to keep everything balanced by keeping everyone else stayed comfortable.

That version doesn’t survive a season like this.

There’s not enough space for high-performance and truth at the same time.

So somethings had to go.

And in my case, I had to do both. At some point balancing it all became unsustainable.

What’s interesting is, in the middle of all of this…

I had a former employer reach out.

Asking if I’d consider coming back.

A year ago, that would have felt like validation.
Proof that I was still valuable. Still wanted. Still irreplaceable.

This time, it felt different.

Not bad. Not good.

Just… clarifying.

Because the question wasn’t:

“Can I go back?”

It was:

“Do I actually want to?”

And that’s a harder question to answer when you’re in the middle of a season that doesn’t look like a win.

Losing … and I mean epically shedding a version of yourself has a way of doing that.

It removes the noise.
The titles.
The external markers that make decisions easier.

And you’re left with something quieter.

More honest and well, less convenient.

So, was, 2025 a mistake?

Perhaps it was. Though, I’ve also made many decisions over the course of my lifetime that felt like a set back during the storm. Only to realize later on it led me on a path.

Here’s the difference.

One is about judgment.

The other is about awareness.

And I’m paying closer attention now. I hope you do too.

This is why I move. It’s genuinely… to be in my own body.
To know what it actually feels like to be aligned… before I label it as “growth”.

Here’s what I learned: not every change is an upgrade.

And not every loss is a failure.

Some of them are just the moment you stop performing long enough to see clearly.

And once you see it you don’t move the same again.